Happy Birthday Jake!!

Days Walking - 106

And I thought Anneli was the only weird pill-taker. Shows what I know. Oh, and annoying food habits, don't get me started.

Today is Jake's birthday! He's 24 now, and well on his way to being Over The Hill. He reports that he doesn't feel any older, and that every birthday after the 21st is just a cruel joke.

I have no way to confirm this personally, I'll let you know in a couple of years. There aren't really any benefits to growing older that I can see - though don't you need to be 25 to rent a car? Hmn.

And maybe people take you more seriously. A 20 year old with a dream probably seems ever so twee, where a 30 year old has drive and motivation? Yes, No, I dunno.

We're bad friends - we don't really have any gifts to give or cakes to bake. We really did not plan ahead for celebrations, that's something to consider before we leave Fairbanks. Calculate who's birthday is when and plan for a little cake or stale Twinkie or some such. And some cute little giftee items.

In lieu of cakes and beer and suchlike, we sang to him and cheered and have excluded him from chore rotation for a week. So he doesn't have to cook or carry the damn-ned generator or etc.

Of all the holidays there are, I think birthdays are the best. They celebrate one person, and you can devote proper attention to them. Christmas is such a vague commercial thang. I think a really good birthday present is something thoughtful that furthers a hobby or interest that a person has.

This is a question I should have asked the entomologists we met a while back - why oh why are bugs so attracted to a person's eyes? I'm sure it has nothing to do with people, they're attracted to eyes, be they caribou or human. Adrian suggested that it's the salt in the eye-juices. Mebbe. Anybody know?

To deter the bugs, I've taken to wearing my sunglasses even when I don't need to, which has led to a few spills (aka falling on my ass) because there are times I can't quite see where I'm placing my feet. Maybe I should go back to the ski-goggles of the snowy days. They get really stuffy though, and I get sweaty and irritated.

Mebbe the bugs could be lessened by having a baseball cap with a sticky fly-papery bill. Then when I see A SWARM coming to devour my sultry salty eye juices, I can just bob my head in a 'you die now' nod, and the little pests would get trapped on the bill.

Hmn. But then what do you do with your bug-infested hat at the end of the day? I guess the sticky bill layer could be disposable (peel off with the little plastic tweezers - included in a little pocket) or the whole hat could be like a paper throw-away thing. The latter method is wasteful though.

I've come to notice that every equipment-based decision I make lately takes into account the idea that I will be carrying any and all items both before and after its use, at least until we reach a civilized disposal site. It really plays a role in how we're choosing our gear. "Yeah it's great, but who wants to carry it?" is now a big factor.

I hope to apply this outlook to my life, and the emotional baggage I'll be collecting from each decision. Am I willing to carry it, during and after the moment has passed? There's no sanctioned garbage pail for bad decisions and their repercussions.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Madame Seamstress And The OCD Itch

Days Walking - 105

Location - 65°26’06N by 148°14’43W

Eric - Thanks for sharing your story! Let the new round of ribbing begin! I have to wonder what the Turks do to their foxhole partners who have erotic dreams...

Rest Day, Yay! It’s high time that we got our scrub on, and we used a freshly melted little rivulet of water, about as forceful as your average garden hose on high, running down the hillside to scrub our stinky duds. Whee!

At first, we toyed with the idea of a quick splash in the water to rinse ourselves as well, but anyone who’s ever washed their clothes in freshly melted glacier water will tell you, it’s freaking cold.

And any thought of immersing your naked body in this liquid nitrogen vanishes in the first two seconds of washing, as your hands go immediately numb. So we gathered water, let it warm up, and got our sponge-bath on.

We even gave the tents a rinse, and they needed it. I don’t think they’d really been cleaned since we started using them a few weeks ago. I’m trying to recall and I can’t - when we went from sheltering to tenting. Good thing I have a blog for all that, and I can look it up. But I don’t feel like turning on the laptop right now.

So we have clean - if stiff - clothes to wear once again. Someday I will walk into a Wal-Mart and buy a brand new sweatshirt, soft and comfy, and it will have no stains or holes or poorly-sewn patches. I have to say this, The Pilgrimage has really given me a lot of time to practice my sewing.

I look at the repairs I made early on, and the new Madam Seamstress within me wants to tear out those old stitches and redo them. I get this nearly OCD itch about it, and there are some garments that I avoid wearing, or avoid looking at, because the repair is so jagged and bass ackwards.

Speaking of OCD Gaze Avertion, (Hey did I just coin a new phrase? Doubtful) whenever Anneli takes pills, I have to look away. She’ll take a swig of water, then pick up the pills while holding her head at this weird angle - so she can open her mouth and not lose any water, then carefully drop the pills into her mouth, and then take a bunch of big gulps of water to wash it all down. This makes no sense to me, and though I have tried to teach her the proper way to take pills, she will not listen.

I look away because if I don’t, I’ll want to throttle her or lecture her, and either approach would not endear me to my companion.

Why won’t she listen, Lord? Why?

If you’re wondering which is the proper method for taking pills, here it is: Step 1, pop the pills in your mouth. Step 2, drink some water to wash them down. Actually, for years when I was a kid I took pills sans water. I’d just work up a little spit and send the pill on its way. I’d like to see Anneli do that sometime, or even see her take a pill with less than a liter of water, Hah that’ll be the day.

What pills was I taking as a kid? Actually, I had ADD (probably still have, cause I doubt the biochemistry of my brain has changed much) and took Ritalin for years. I don’t know that it was a good thing in the end, (there’s a lot of studies that argue back and forth) but I was able to keep my butt in the seat and listen to the teacher.

Do you guys have any weird pill-taking mannerisms?

Litany Webb, signing off

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Rough And Reassuring

Days Walking - 104

Church is now my tent-mate, ever since we were put together on the same Watch group. And somehow, for some reason, Church's digestive system is in the midst of an industrial methane production phase. That's right, horriffic, odious and hellish fumes have been coming out of this otherwise sweet young thing.

It's not like her diet has changed recently. Unless she's creeping out in the night to dine on squirrels and bunnies. Or caribou. Small ones, just to curb those midnight cravings.

There's no sound, no warning, no claxon, no air-raid siren wail to prepare her victims. I swear it must seep out of her pores or spontaneously manifest. One moment all is well, and the next minute, I'm highly tempted to upchuck all over my pillow.

What? No, Of course I'm not talking about you, Stinky. I'm not about to tell the world about your gassy issues. What kind of a blabbering bitch do you take me for?

Ok my steamy dreams (cause you know, it's so sexy to talk about heavenly images of subconscious sex right after going on and on about ass gas)

Warning - just skip the rest of today's post if you are troubled by anything risque...

It's more weird than wild, really...Ok so in my dream I'm in this giant tent, like the size of those you might have a church revival meeting in. Only this tent is made of silk and velvet and has all those beautiful deep colors you find in the Middle Eastern genre.

And the tent is empty except for a narrow cushioned table. The cushion is built into the table, almost like the exam table at a doctor's office. It is black leather and very warm to the touch.

Did I mention that I'm completely naked in this dream? Yeah.

So I'm checking out the table, and there's a blast of air and I look to the tent flap and there's a man standing there flanked by two women. Everyone is nude.

No one but me has a face. This seems pretty typical of my dreams.

The guy and two girls walk up to me, and without a word they lay me down on the table. Only after I lie down do I notice that there are numerous straps and attachments for binding a person's arms and legs. For some reason, this does not trouble me. The leather is like warm butter against my skin, and I relax into its softness.

They take my hands and bind them with a single strap, arms bent at the elbows - I can scratch my shoulders with my thumbs, and that's the limit of my movement. Pinning my arms in this position squooshes my boobs together, and it looks like I have more than my meager rack, cool!

The strap is rough and reassuring and the anticipation begins to build.

My legs are bound next. And then my faceless captors make sweet, long, lingering pleasure to me with various impressive implements (I'd love to go into explicit detail, but I'm not the one typing this) and the interesting thing is, all of the sex toys are not sex toys.

They're made of fruit. Everything is made of fruit. After a time, I realize that the three people around me are also made of fruit. Sticky sweet fruit juices are everywhere, and in the end, I devour the people and all their fruit.

At the end of the dream, I'm still strapped to the table, wondering how I'm going to get free. And that's it.

I think the meaning of the dream is pretty clear. I need to get to a produce market very soon or I will lose my mind. Oh, and some sex would be very nice too.

Litany Webb, singing off

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Duck Duck Duck - - Goose!

Days Walking - 103

Sharon - I'm sorry to hear that you guys knew the boy who drowned. I hope that the other kids take note of this sad incident and take more care. It usually takes a horrible accident for people to change their foolish ways.

We got a late start today, my fault. I had a claustrophobic attack and could not bear to don my backpack. How embarrassing. Yes - I do sadly, occasionally have such issues, though I have tried to keep quiet about it.

Church blames fatigue and low blood sugar as a trigger, and gave me a dose of honey from her stash. I think she's planning to write a paper on all of our psychosis. I'll bet she has calculated down to the third decimal place which one of us will go apesh*t first.

Is it me? It could be me. I'll bet it's me. I don't think it's me. It could be any of us, it's always the quiet ones and there's no telling what's going to set someone off. It took me like an hour to chill out and be able to wear my crushing 3000 pounds of equipment without scratching my own eyes out with my feet.

Early on today, our lives threatened to turn into a Gilligan's Island episode. After about an hour of morning hiking, we came across a thick white cable coming out of the ground.

We came across this underground cable that had been uncovered by Spring runoff. Jake found it first, he was out ahead of us, and by the time we reached him, he had started digging more of it up and was planning to bust into the outer casing.

I mentioned Gilligan's Island cause that was one of the episodes - this undersea phone cable washes up in the lagoon and they make a phone out of coconuts (like you do) and spend the rest of the episode trying to convice random people across the planet that they are marooned on an Uncharted Desert Isle.

So we stopped Jake, with some not inconsiderable effort. That boy really wanted to hack into whatever this cable was and reach out and touch someone. It could have been anything, there was no way to tell what was inside. Not to mention it's illegal.

We took a reading today of 68 degrees, whoo hoo! We also got rained on and were entertained by a thunderstorm. It's thrilling and scary to see the snaking, bluefire-tongues darting to the ground.

You can see the storms coming for a long distance. When they're really far away, the lightning doesn't even look like bolts, just flashes. Like heat lightning, but you know it isn't.

It's freaky to watch it roll overhead, but I try to be glad that I'm not the tallest one in the group.

It's kind of like the old story where the two guys are being chased by a bear - the first guys says "I don't have to be faster than the bear, I just have to be faster than you!" So as long as tall people like Kwame and Adrian are around, they should get struck first.

Did I mention the totally hot dream I had last night? I don't know if you guys are down with erotica...

Litany Webb, signing off

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Ha Ha! I Mauled Your Leg!

Days Walking - 102

Good Grief! I'm so glad we keep Watch at night now, and scared that we didn't start sooner. Get a load of this.

In case the link gets broken, here's a quote from the Juneau Empire, by Mary Pemberton, an Associated Press Writer: "ANCHORAGE, Alaska — A hiker was injured by a grizzly bear that charged through heavy brush and grabbed the woman by her right ankle, dragging her off a large rock before her husband scared it off."

She was just hiking along, minding her own business, and GRAB! Very creepy, especially after our own recent encounter with BFGB. We've been so damned lucky that no one has been seriously hurt. Yet.

Maybe this bear was waiting for one of his friend bears to come around the corner. He was gonna trip his friend and they'd have a good beary chuckle, "Ha Ha Gotcha! I mauled your leg!"

But instead, it was this random human who had no business being in his back yard. He's like "Holy Sh*t that's not Fred!" and before he can recoil in surprise, the hubby is all up in his grill.

I remember, not too many years ago, I was fifteen I think, I was chasing one of my guy friends around his apartment complex with a paintball gun and I almost took out this little old lady. She was eighty if she was a day, and I fired at her, I squeezed off two shots before I realized she wasn't my friend. I missed thank goodness, I could have killed her. But I tell ya, I've never heard such language coming out of such a cute little lady - before or since.

And in other dangerous Ackian news, there's the story of an 18 year old guy from Barrow who drove his snowmobile too far onto thin ice and drowned. How sad, truly. This is a very dangerous place to be.

Every time I think I have a calm bead on this place, that I can handle what is gonna get thrown at me, death and disaster in the news helps remind me that at any moment any of us could die.

Um, on a lighter note, my Dad and his girl Joann have decided to go steady. How mushy is that? Apparently there's like promise rings involved and everything. I didn't know the elder peeps were into the cutesy gestures. I guess love is silly, enjoy life while you can, cause there's grizzlies of one sort or another waiting for all of us behind the next rock.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Unwilling Blood Donor Dinner

Days Walking - 101

Almost sounds like a class, doesn't it?

"I'm Professor Webb, you can call me Litany. I'll be lecturing today on how best to pee in the Ackian Outback while minimizing the bug bites received on your tender backside. This will be on the test."

As Adrian was eating his slop this evening, a spoon broke in his mouth. The little bowl-like portion broke off from the stick-like segment. And this aint no plastic spoon neither. I've never seen a metal spoon break before. He didn't pierce himself with the jagged remnants or anything, no injury. Funky though. That spoon was like "I'm so done with you people." and snap! it went to tableware heaven.

Glad you guys liked the poem. It's not so much about any subject as it is about word-play. Which is too bad, cause that's like a video game with glorious graphics and crummy gameplay. Who needs that? Shouldn't writing be about the meaning... Without depth of meaning and feeling, who cares how well the words get along?

Kato - Well of course I honored your request! I try to respond to all of you kind folks in kind.

A few days ago, I mentioned printing up a book of these blog entries once we reach Fairbanks. I was brainstorming for taglines on the cover, you know, like under the author's name - it usually mentions your recent bestseller. What do you guys think? Feel free to suggest your own, you guys are a lot smarter and funnier than yours truly:

Litany Webb -

- Haiti doesn't want her and Castro's afraid she'll take over.

- Now with great lymon taste

- Author of numerous parking pass forgeries

- Harvard doesn't want her and MENSA is afraid she'll take over

- Author of numerous twisted sexual fantasies

- Now with a third less calories

- The only girl who didn't cheat on her SAT

- With twice the ply's of the leading brand

- She bribed the law and the law run

- Now protected by the 5th Amendment

- Now with fresh lemon scent

I think there's like one good one in there, and most of them stink. Of course, I am most own worst critic.

Wait wait, I never told you how to minimize bug bites on one's ass: Be quick about it. That's all I can say. Unless you're willing to douse your derriere in DEET, which I am not, just be sure you are ready to go before you bare your butt. None of this "I could maybe go in fifteen minutes, I'll squat here and read a four-month-old magazine and deliberate." No.

Also, hitching your underpants to the side rather than actually Baring All will help save your precious cheeks from becoming unwilling blood-donor dinner.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Got Hazmat?

Days Walking - 100

Wow, 100 days and no fatalities. I'm surprised. And pleased.

All right, if there are any knowledgeable military types reading this, can you give me a reason why three crew-cut clean-shaven truck drivers wearing BDU’s were driving three matching, cute Albertsons TANKER TRUCKS with ‘Jones Dairy’ and ‘Got Milk?’ on the sides?

I mean, I’m pretty gullible when it comes to believing government propaganda, but these were some rather Semper Fi milkmen. I offered up a silent prayer as they passed, hoping that they would not hit a caribou and jackknife, spilling their almost certainly toxic cargo into the heart of beautiful Ack.

Kato - Actually asking for me to post my poem, hmn. I thought you guys were probably bored of my poetry! You probably are, and Kato is just being nice… Not that I mind, of course. This one is the only good piece of the three I wrote the other day:

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Denial………………………………........................By Litany Webb

oh doubtful debtor
my apostle of beauty
gleaning small graces
gently tracing quiet glory with tongue's tender tip
mouthing whet words
liquid syllables
mummed into memory
yielding salvation unto the self only
daring the weeping edge of the world
not to cry
refusing it reason to

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You know, I really expected that I would do more writing on this voyage than I have. I'm just so wrung out by the end of the day. It's hard to summon the motivation to move, once I lie down.

I'm not proud to admit this, but there have been days when I seriously considered just wetting myself rather than make the effort to get up. I never did, but I came close once. Of course, that was like a month ago, in the era of winds at 35 below zero, so who could blame me for considering that? At least it would be warm. Briefly.

No critters to report today. Wait - we did see some caribou off in the far distance, but no close encounters. That's fine with me. I can use a good night's sleep right about now.

Night Night.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Flashlight Training Inc. - Obedience and Security

Days Walking - 99

Ok so Jake and Gabe woke us up at about 2AM last night, not all that long after we’d gone to sleep. There was something in the bushes, and it wasn’t small.

We got Kwame up and handed the bow off to him, since he’s the best shot. Jake equipped the slingshot - one of those snazzy ones that braces on your forearm.

And then we spent the next three hours jumping and cringing at every sound. The something in the bushes was circling our camp, disturbing the brush.

We trained our flashlights into the blackness - even with the moon, it gets pretty damned dark - and nothing. We’d see the brush jitter a bit as the Something went by, but we never did catch a glimpse.

It could have been a bunny or a badger or something, but of course we imagined the worst possible critters, not just wolves or bears, but scary crazy stuff like Arctic Kamikaze Porcupines - the kind that dash into camp and explode in a flying fury of pines, leaving us punctured and dead, good eating!

After about three hours of thrilling 'jumping at every sound and seeing nothing' adventure, most of the group went to bed. By this time, it was Church and Litany’s turn on Watch, and you can bet there was no sleeping for us.

I wanted to ask her about the plethora of porn cookie crumbs she’d left on my laptop, but I refrained. We talked instead about the vet clinic where Church spent much time learning how to scoop out reproductive organs. Eeew!

Eric - Wow, thanks for the Turkish Army tidbit, it's very cool to get the info directly from someone with experience! You can bet I passed this info on to Church and Adrian. At this point, they're still sheepish about the whole thing, (falling asleep on Watch) but sick of hearing about it. You can bet they'll be hearing about it for months to come.

Heather - You pronounce Caeled as "Kay-led", yeah you got it pretty close. Hee hee! Eric is welcome to share his war stories with us anytime! :o)

We only get about four hours of ‘night’ now. Sunset is at about 11:45PM, Sunrise is about 4AM. So Church and I started our two hour watch at about 5AM, after sunrise, which really messes with your sleeping cycle.

When we woke up Gabe and Kwame for their turn on Watch, they were not feelin it, since they’d really just got back to sleep. And then Church and I laid down, but ended up just talking for the next couple of hours.

The long long long hours of sun really messes with your sense of time. Almost daily, I’ll try to think back - and I often have to ask someone ‘Did this happen today, or was that yesterday?‘

In the end, we were getting goofy silly sleepy, and we - and I’m including Kwame and Gabe, who chimed in with fabulous falsetto’s - ended our day with a rousing rendition of 'Sunrise, Sunset'.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Sleeping With The Enmity

Days Waking - 98

Location - 65°52’59N by 149°43’11W

It’s a rest day of sorts, even though we moved camp a mile or two. The overnight watch was mostly uneventful but we wanted to put some more space between us and the BFGB of yesterday.

It’s hard to guess in this rugged terrain just where his home range ends. We’ve been looking at trees for territorial markings, but what layman can tell where one BFGB’s home ranging area ends and another’s begins?

You’ll notice I said the night was ‘mostly uneventful’. When Caeled and I got up for our watch duty at 4AM, we found team Adrian and Church SLEEPING ON DUTY.

Now, when Caeled and I are on watch, our biggest problem is keeping quiet so we don’t wake everyone up. I’ve rarely felt the urge to pass out and when I do, the idea that I have people’s lives in my hands helps to keep me awake, if not completely alert.

So we were yelling at them, visions of BFGB dancing in our heads. Everybody woke up, and there commenced a big angry shouting match, and a lot of dirty laundry was aired, and much uncomfortable back-biting took place. Not a good place to be just then.

So, two guesses who gets to do the cooking duty for the next couple of weeks. That’s right, it’s those sleeping bastards. When I start to think about all the scary predators that are out there, and the idea that the folks supposedly keeping watch might be sleeping, I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep comfortably again for quite a while.

Jake told us about some story he heard where if soldiers are sleeping on duty, they are awakened by getting pee'd on. And then they get beat up. That about fits the angry feeling we were all experiencing just then, I'd say.

We’ve broken these two sleepers into different watch groups. Church is now with me, and Adrian is now is Caeled. Although as quiet as Church can be, I might have trouble keeping awake too.

Today was a decent day. I wanted to walk off from camp a bit and do some writing, but the image of the bloody bear was still too fresh in my memory. So I stayed within earshot of camp but out of sight, within view of a very pretty little lake, and wrote three poems!

It was relaxing, even if the bugs did get on my damn nerves. One of the poems is pretty decent, the other two are crap and I’ll probably trash them. It was good to write them, sometimes you just need to get those words out of your head so they’ll leave you alone.

I’m really looking forward to getting into Fairbanks. We’ll likely be there a few weeks while we put together some funds. That will be interesting, interacting with humans on a daily basis once again.

Will we love it or hate it? Time will tell.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Maulrats

Days Walking - 97

We only got about four miles of hiking accomplished today. It was a pretty uncomfortable experience, it was a day of waiting. And if you know me, you know I hate waiting. Ask someone who knows me, ask "What does Litany hate?" and they'll reply:

"Litany hates waiting."

My pet peeves also include cat fur in my underpants.

So we got up, ate breakfast, packed and stowed all our crap, and got underway. After about two and a half hours of hiking, we had to make use of the road (something we avoid during most of the day) because the way became very steep.

When the way through the foothills gets narrow or especially steep, the only way is the roadway. We spread out and take steps for safe road travel. So we started walking the road.

We came around a blind curve to see a giant slab of roadkill. It was a caribou, and it must have been hit by a truck, but it looked like it had exploded from the inside. Caribou guts were all over the place, and the carcass was nearly split in two but not quite.

It would have been better if the dead beast had been ripped in two. It looked to be held together by shredded, sad fragments and it was awful to look upon.

But simply finding a dead caribou would not have slowed us down for long. It’s sad, but it’s no cause for loss of hours. What did slow us down was the Big F*cking Grizzly Bear.

BFGB was enjoying the free lunch of caribou. It was a real life double-take situation. We come traipsing around the corner, unsuspecting, and pow, blood and goo.

I took in the gory scene in a left-to-right pan and scan view punctuated by a “Woah” moment worthy of Keanu himself. And just as my gaze was cringe-squinting at the sight of the bloody chunks, I saw the bear, big and huge and brown and ginormous and his face and paws were bloody and he was eagerly tearing into the carcass like those guys you see at the Chinese Buffets, those guys who come just for the crab legs. Those guys that will wait until a new crab legs steam tray is delivered, and then they mound their empty plates until they spill onto the floor or the steam tray is empty.

Actually we couldn’t tell if the bear was a big brown bear or a grizzly, but we weren’t about to come close enough to gather a stool sample for analysis.

So we backed the hell up, doubletime, like some badass bandit army was on our tails, and got the hell out of his way. We moved back north a good couple of hundred yards, and kept an eye on the bear with the binoculars.

He was taking his sweet time with the carcass. He worried it and played with it and dragged it around for most of the day. He dragged it to the side of the road, into the fringe of the brush, and started digging, possibly to hide his meat for tomorrow. But he gave up after a few minutes and went back to snacking.

This went on all day. I don’t know that the bear ever really noticed us. If he did, he gave no sign. We got the heck out of his area pretty quickly, so he really had no reason to be annoyed with us. Not that a giant emm effer needs a reason.

We waited a total of five hours, and eventually the bear dragged a good sized chunk of meat away with him into the unknown. At that point, none of us felt much like hiking. After a couple of more miles, we found a good spot to camp and took it.

So yeah, it was a fun day of blood, gore and waiting to be mauled by a grizzly in the night. Needless to say, we’ll be extra alert on watch tonight. And he probably wouldn’t even do us the honor of eating us. Just kill us all and leave our mauled carcasses for the birds and vermin. Fun!

Litany Webb, signing off

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From Her Head Down To Her Toenails

Days Walking - 96

As I ramble daily, there's always a couple of worries that nag me - first, that I will repeat myself - which I've mentioned before, and second - that I'll accidentally steal from someone else.

I was cheerfully reading some old Dooce archives last night, and I came across one of her pregnancy blogs where she used the phrase "you're not ready for this belly." and I was like holy sh*t, I said that like a week ago.

And then I spent much too long racking my brains, trying to think back, whether I'd read it on Dooce before, or if we came up with it separately. I mean, it's not a phrase of inspired genius or anything, so either way is possible. Transpermia or Evolution? Scanning...

I'm a rather compulsive person, and so I start checking my laptop, sieving through my cookies and internet history, to try to determine if I viewed page X before date Y. Yes, I'm a psycho, because who cares who said a silly phrase first? I care, because I have nothing but time to fret and do deep searches of my cookies. I mean, she said it first, she said it a long time ago. But did I write it before I read it on her site?

And during my search, I came across all these cookies for porn sites. Wha? Sixteen in all, with multiple hits for several of them. Who had the time and the privacy to enjoy porn on my laptop? And why wasn't it me?

Now, I enjoy pornography, but I'm really more about text - erotica that is, than streaming video of heaving bodies. But these sites were the latter to my former. Hard. Kinky sh*t. The Zoroaster Granite of Porn. And that's lower than Vishnu Schist, mah friends.

(Yes, I'm a geology geek, see - you learn something new every day).

So being my compulsive self, I try to think back to who's been using my laptop. Just me, and occasionally whoever my shelter or tent mate was. Since I don't have the memory for anything that's actually useful - I can remember silly geology terminology, but not whether I took my pain pills or stuffed them into a pocket, or who was my tent-mate X days ago.

I cross reference the porn cookies with my shelter mate for the correct period, and it was Church!! Holy cow, Church is into the hardcore porn. I'm so surprised. She doesn't seem the sort. She's so reserved and proper and will only discuss sex in the most clinical terms.

Anneli and I have been known to share naughty stories of wanton debauchery, and Church just listens, a frown of mild distaste on her face. Why didn't she join in?

I never figured out if I stole the 'belly' phrase from Dooce. I'm willing to grant that I might have. Which makes me even more worried about stealing from other people. But I really don't have the time for worrying about what goes into the blog. I mean, it's so easy to absorb what we hear and read and add it to our own vocabulary.

As we're supposed to do, we're busy little learning creatures after all.

Now I get to absorb the idea that my quiet, contemplative, mild-mannered Church is Hardcore, Yo. I'm not aghast or appalled or anything. I just wish she would have joined in on the fun, down and dirty discussions. I'm not going to ask her about it, but it's an interesting window into her interests.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Mom, Ever Feel Less Than French?

Days Walking - 95

Kwame is doing well, no further issues so far. We're keeping an eye on him. We're trying to be surreptitious about it, but he's like "Hey stop staring at me!" and I'd say the same if I were him.

It's been raining on and off over the last couple of days. The scattered showers variety, which is beautiful. We can look to the south, to the lower elevations, and see for a long way - the columns of rain are misty and mysterious.

The rain is helping to melt any snow that's remaining. It's a lot more common now to see a rare patch of snow, where a few weeks ago it was a rare patch of green or brown. The ground is getting a lot more slick. Snow had a pretty consistent texture, and the snowshoes helped. Soddy ground is randomly slickery, and I'm falling on my butt like three times a day now. Yes, I am the most clumsy, with Caeled a close second.

One moment, you're walking along just fine and then you're on your back, you've hit your head on your pack, and you're looking at the sky in surprise. I've begun arranging the items in my pack with the pre-conception that I'll soon be beating my head against it. Hmn, I'll put this here and that there, to cushion my innocent skull from its upcoming bashing.

The rain also rinses away our DEET bug protection, so we avoid using it on rainy days, to help conserve it. In some ways, I miss the deathly cold. It's a lot easier to stay warm than it is to stay dry. It's all about wondrous wool, which keeps you warm despite the wetness. You smell like a dank sheep, but at least you won't die of hypothermia.

Hah, dank sheep, we should smell so good. I'd go on to detail our ripe odors, but I've already ranted on that subject quite enough.

Golden Hour has turned into Golden Three Hours, and we now spend a lot more time on the road, from like 6pm-9pm. We try to get ten miles a day under our belts - er - boots, and actually walking on a real road helps, even if it is gravel.

We try to be very careful, especially around tight turns in the foothills, where visibility might be low and a truck might come around a bend and plow into us. We avoid such situations when at all possible, but anyone who's driven in the mountains knows that sometimes there's no shoulder.

When such instances arise, we spread out and use our battery powered blinky-flashy red lights. We equip the ice-crossing ropes to maintain a good distance apart. The ropes would be especially handy if someone had to jump the guardrail to avoid, you know, being crushed to death. This way it's a lot more likely we'll be spotted - as a large group, rather than a tightly compact, less visible party.

Despite our efforts, we've had a few peeved truckers give us a rude blast on the horn. We resist the urge to pirouette as a choreographed unit and offer them a choice rude gesture in response. After all, like with Mr. Toothy, we're on their turf, we have no business being in their way, and Ack is a fairly dangerous place for a walkabout. Why am I doing this again?

Litany Webb, signing off

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Evert Your Eyes!

Days Walking - 94

Location - 66°08'21N by 150°12'17W
(I remembered, aren't you proud?)

Kwame had an episode this morning. And I don't mean a television episode. Unless we're talking about a PSA. Actually, this was more like an afterschool special.

Several of us were awakened by the bone-chilling, god-awful sound of urgent retching.

Allow me to be very clear - this wasn't a mouthful of bork politely returning to sender, oh no. This was the sound of one's small intestine turning itself inside out inside his mouth. When sharks do it, it's called 'everting'.

When humans do it, you call 911. Only, we have no 911 to call.

I've mentioned the rationing that we do on this trip. Rationing means that no matter how much you want just one more bowl of slop, you should do your best to refrain. Any number of random incidents could delay us, and suddenly we're a week behind. The food you don't glut yourself with today could save your life next week.

We all piss and moan about the rationing, but we're pretty careful and nothing really gets wasted. If I'm done with my slop, "Hey someone want the rest of my gruel?" someone - usually Caeled or Gabe - will scarf what's left in my bowl.

I call it slop because it usually is. It's some kind of breakfast porridge, or it's some kind of pasta mix, or some kind of rice mix, but there's always the gooey sauce factor, be it peaches and cream oatmeal, faux alfredro or marinara.

Kwame was up early, and making breakfast for us all, when he snapped. He started going to town on the food, and within about three minutes, consumed the breakfast slop meant for eight people.

Jake witnessed part of it - he came out of his tent, said good morning to Kwame, who was stirring the slop. Jake stepped a few yards away for a scratch-n-pee, and when he turned back all the food was gone.

Jake said Kwame had this bloated, surprised, horrified look on his face as he told him "All of it. I just ate all of it." and then mere seconds later, the aforementioned evertion.

The sound was pretty intense. It didn't sound like a human. It was like some giant momma creature was delivering nine pounds of half-digested tummy chum for her young. Ugh - just thinking about it brings that bile taste into the back of my throat.

We all came busting out of our tents to see what the hell was going on, to see Kwame kneeling in a frighteningly deep puddle of regurgitated breakfast. If that's not enough to turn me away from slop for a few days, nothing will.

Gabe got Kwame cleaned up - they're tentmates. Then Adrian and Church gave Kwame a good exam. Kwame seemed ok - and a thorough examination of the barf (Church has nerves of steel) didn't show any signs of blood or foreign matter - from ulcers or other digestive complaints.

While Gabe was cleaning Kwame up, Jake and I did an inventory of the packed food items. It would be scary to discover that Kwame had been going crazy in the night, devouring our chow. But everything seemed to be present and accounted for. We even found a pack of raisins that we thought had been eaten long ago - score!

So the mental medicine began. All of us sat in a circle and listened as Kwame, Church and Adrian discussed why this might have happened. Was this is an urge or impulse he'd felt before? Has he been binging and purging? Since we all eat together, this was pretty unlikely.

Kwame described it as a feeling that had been growing for a few weeks. Like those impulses or voices you hear in your head, but dismiss, knowing you'll never do it. He said he's dreamt about food all night for the past two nights in a row. He was really at a loss to explain it.

It was unsettling to see him so unnerved. Kwame is a pretty solid guy, and if I had to pick anyone who was to go hog wild and suck down everyone's breakfast, he'd be at the bottom of the list. Hell, I would have thought I'd go food crazy before Kwame. He seems ok now, and we'll keep an eye on him, and he won't be cooking alone any time soon. But he should be ok.

There's a possibility that this is a sign of Binge Eating Disorder - we'll have to wait and see. I think it was a one-time-weirdism brought on by a really long hiking trip. We talked about it for a good three hours.

It's possible that any of us might start giving in to those little voices in our heads. It's important that we share these urges, talk about them, so we can watch out for this kind of thing, and help one another. I mean, what if someone has the urge to just step in front of a speeding tanker truck? Or off a steep cliff? We have to share this stuff, as hard as it might be.

Here's one of mine: Anneli wears these hoop earrings sometimes and I get a strong urge for no reason to jab my finger into the loop and just rip them out of her ear, leaving her screaming and bloody.

Do you guys have any strange impulses to share?

Litany Webb, signing off

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Regarding Fruit / Tree Proximity

Days Walking - 93

We had a random encounter today with Tony Glenn and Marsha Butler, entomologists studying the effects of roadways on insect activity. They're comparing insect types and density at specific locales along this part of the Dalton Highway.

Interestingly, Tony and Marsha are not employed by a university - instead they're privately funded by one of those foundations you hear about when you watch PBS. They were strangely mysterious about which one - we could not figure out why...

Tony and Marsha are placing collection lures at regular intervals along the road, as well as fifty and a hundred meters away from the road. They track the GPS of each lure, which is actually a lure, a collection container, and sensors that tabulate temperature, humidity, elevation, and even light levels.

Due to the slopes built in to roads - high in the middle and lower at the edges - for drainage, puddles can collect along roadsides, which of course is a factor in breeding cycles. But as marshy as a lot of Ack is, it's difficult to determine the impact of roads.

Also, it seems that many insects home in on their prey by our exaust gases, like CO2, and cars and trucks emit similar gases. And as you're relaxing at a rest stop or a photo opportunity, bugs can hitch a ride on your vehicle and so be spread hundreds of miles. We only have to think back to the Spruce Bark Beetle to realize how important it is to keep insects in their home area, and minimize spreading.

It's always fascinated me that no matter what subject you can think of, some scientist is studying it. Someone has made studying dung-beetles their life's work. Which is better, Coke or Pepsi. The effects of radiation coming from your computer screen.

Scientists are studying everything and anything. And now thanks to the internet they can all get together and pool their findings and discover how dried Pepsi spatters combined with computer screen radiation effects dung-beetles. The serandipitous way that data connects is beautiful to me. Like that science show Connections - brilliant stuff!

Tony and Marsha are cool peeps, for Bug-Lovers. I know that some kids have no fear and just love to play with grasshoppers and spiders and whatnot, but I never had any desire to touch any of those things. Bugs are my weakness. Snakes and rats I'm cool with, but bugs best steer clear of me or I will squish them!

Tony hails from Pennsylvania, and Marsha from Iowa. Midwestern folks are very nice and laid back. I guess if you regularly have snow dumped on you for 5 months of the year, you learn to deal with enforced cohabitation. They have very good people skills, especially for people who spend a lot of time pinning fifteen different species of roach to index cards as a hobby.

Marsha thoughtfully hooked us up with some handy DEET spritzers, and we have been enjoying a minimized bug experience since. Thanks Marsha you rock!

Enid - hey cool, thanks for the weird news about the British guy, interesting stuff.

Heather - Your hubby is Eric, neat! It's cool that he read my ramblings and saw fit to comment.

I'm continuously boggled as to how any of you clearly highly intelligent folks find my blog the slightest bit entertaining. I read your deep, witty, wise and worldly blogs and think "Whaaa?"

Oh I finally heard back from my Dad the other day - turns out he had an impromptu sexy sleep-over at Joann's house, and his cell phone battery died, and yadda yadda excuses excuses it's not cool to make me worry.

I'm torn between thinking it's high time Dad got a steady girl, and irked that I am not there to poke my nose in at every opportunity. I mean, I've been taking care of this man my whole life (he see's it differently of course) and now I've abandoned him to fend for himself.

I mean, he does not pay attention when he's walking through parking lots, especially when he's on his cell phone. I can't tell you how many times I've yanked him back just before he got himself hit by a car backing out. He's really distracted a lot of the time, and don't get him talking, whoo nelly can he go on and on and on...

Litany Webb, signing off

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iPod Glutes Implant Service Pack 2

Days Walking - 92

I was enjoying my iPod Shuffle the other day (If one of my fellow hikers and my Shuffle were tied to the railroad tracks, and a train was a-comin, and I could only save one, I think the paradox within my soul would cause a rift in the space-time continuum, swallowing all of the Milky Way and half of Andromeda).

Ahem.

I was enjoying my iPod Shuffle the other day, and as I considered its smallness, its lightness, its pretty freaking amazing functionality, I had to wonder how much smaller consumer electronics will get. Or should get. If my Shuffle were any smaller, I'd probably lose it.

You should see me now - when I misplace it for thirty seconds. 'Panic Attack' is too gentle a phrase. If a mother grizzly has a 'panic attack' when one of her babies cries out in pain and confusion as a raccoon swipes its nose with a well-deserved backhand, then I have a panic attack when I misplace my Shuffle.

So short of having an MP3 player built into my shoes, or something else I can't lose easily, I don't know about items getting much smaller. Or perhaps they could be installed inside my body, where I can't lose them, ever! And little earphones actually built-in to my earlobes or earrings or something. That way you could have the music on really soft, and no one could hear it but you.

It would be like having a soundtrack for your daily life!

Kato - hey cool, I didn't there was already an internet abbreviation for RITMLMAO, how cool is that? On one level it feels validating, and on another, not so much. Was it Archimedes that said something like 'there's nothing new under the sun?' Every time I think I've had an inspired idea, fifteen seconds of googling and it turns out someone thought that up ten years ago. Which isn't to say I didn't come up with it on my own, but it still can be deflating.

Cy - Holy cow, I didn't know I was stealing from a 'Fear and Loathing' scene! I've never seen it, but I've heard a lot of good things. Didn't the real life guy recently die or commit suicide or something? Also, I'm sorry that I didn't respond to your comment sooner. You missed out on the 'news cycle'. See, how it works is, I check the comments, jot notes, call Marina, ramble / dictate the post for the next day. So I checked before your comment, sorry.

Our current location is 66°17'28N by 150°25'00W. I'll try to remember and post our location more often!

Sharon - the bike riding guy sounds interesting, thanks for the heads up. I'll have to see if I can find any info about him. Pshhh, riding a bike, what a wimp. Hiking is for the serious types, the real, er - manly, uh women... Never mind. I hope bike riding dude has a partner, it would be dangerous to be out here all alone. May he be safe and have exciting adventures.

Robin - Swimsuit competition, ha ha! It's not that warm yet. I'm sorry but Caeled's funnyism cannot be shared in polite company. It was of the potty humor genre, and probably wouldn't seem that funny unless you were there...and it was three in the morning.

Heather - Well of course you've been missed! Your highbrow blog is great, but I like the chatty you too.

Eric - Oh yeah, I definitely break my blisters. I know some first aid opinions tell you not to, but as long as you're careful to avoid getting an infection, it's all good. Thanks for the advice on bears, we're careful to be noisy - seems like an oxymoron, doesn't it?

I know that on some days - hey like today - I don't give a lot of info about what went on during the hike that day, I ramble about daydreams I had about getting laid, and how I love my Shuffle - instead of detailing the walk.

If I did, you'd be bored out of your minds because most days are the same. Pee, Eat Slop, Break Camp, Pack, Trudge, Break, Trudge, Break, Trudge, Unpack, Setup Camp, Eat Slop, Sleep, repeat.

We ARE keeping track of the mundane but somewhat interesting details, even if I'm not blogging about them daily. Church and Jake and Gabe all keep notes and or diary entries, and once we get to Fairbanks, I plan to go back and edit my posts and add in more details, with daily data, more pics, the diary entries they'll allow me to share, and other minutia.

Maybe even put together a book I could get printed through CafePress or some-such, I don't know. I think CafePress can't do books with color pics, and black and white pics of Ack would be a bummer. I guess I could just do something at Kinko's. It would be cool to have an actual printed record for my own enjoyment at the least, since I know all too well that blogs can go pifft! and all your hard work is lost.

Have you guys backed up your posts lately? Go and do it now!

Litany Webb, signing off

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Witty Words Here

Days Walking - 91

Last night, after I ended up rolling in the mud laughing my ass off while I was on watch with Caeled at 3am, waking everyone up, the group has unanimously decided to cut off my supply of Nutrilite until further notice.

It’s not my fault, I tells ya! Caeled is one funny f*cker. And you know how funny stuff is twice as funny at 3am. No more fun vitamins for me. I hadn't taken enough Nutrilite to get hooked on it, but I do miss the giddy goofy feeling. A little blah today, and maybe that's why.

I wasn't able to get ahold of my Dad last night for our usual "still alive" goodnight talk, and have not been able to reach him today either. So I'm kinda worried/distracted about that too.

It’s rest day, and none too soon. Despite my best efforts, I have a nasty blister on my right big toe that is giving me grief. A day of not tearing it will hopefully do wonders for the healing process.

Not one but three helicopters went overhead today, heading north. None of them took any interest in us, happily. I wonder what’s going on? I’ve checked the news online, but nothing.

I finished the US Army Survival Manual a while back, and I’m now reading a book Jake loaned me, it's called Tell No One. It’s a murder-mystery, not my typical fare, but seems pretty well written. Hey, it’s something different to look at. It’s one of those books that can make you paranoid. Just what I need, another mental issue.

Jake is getting seriously itchy about the upcoming Star Wars movie. He’s talking about almost nothing else, and even Anneli is getting fed up with him. I’d like to see it too, but I’m not losing sleep over it. It’ll still be showing when we arrive in Fairbanks, so I’m not too concerned. The reviews I’ve seen online have been positive, so I’m looking forward to it.

The temperature is still getting down to the 30’s at night, but in the 50’s during the day. So in addition to wearing the insect-protection gear (which is increasingly necessary) we wear one set of coats during the day, and other at night. It’s like a muddy fashion show or a concert, with wardrobe changes on cue.

“That’s a darling jacket!”
“This old thing? I’ve had it for months.”
“Well this is the first I’ve seen it.”
“Wow you like it?”
“Oh yeah the green really brings out your eyes!”

So much for the deep, meaningful discussions on this trip.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Goofin On Gaurana

Days Walking - 90

Yesterday's wet dream was brought to you by Nutrilite Daily Multivitamin.

Robin - sorry I did not answer your question the other day, I was too busy riding my buzz to respond to the world.

Ok there's something in this vitamin that they're keeping secret. See, I ran out of my own vitamins (Centrum Performance) and Anneli hooked me up with some of hers, hence the Nutrilite.

Along with its 4000 IU of this and that (what is the sense of so extremely exceeding the recommended dose of any vitamin, I mean really), there is 518mg of "Nutrilite Concentrate" whatever that is.

And now for the weather - Today water fell from the sky in little droplets, dampening the world. It was really strange. High of 55! I remember when I was a kid, I thought that when it was raining on my house, it was raining on the whole world.

Until one day I was playing in the rain across the street at Tina's house, and Dad called me home and when I got there it wasn't raining. I looked back and Tina was still getting rained on. The world lost some of its magic that day, I can tell you.

Robin - sorry I still have not answered your question. What if Mr. Toothy returns? Same steps as before, really. Get the weapons ready, try to scare him off, and if that doesn't work, well Kwame has been practicing with his bow in the evenings, and been trying to teach the rest of us. As a last resort, we'd kill Mr. Toothy.

But you know, this wolf is doing no wrong. We're in his territory and we plan to do everything we can to avoid killing any furry critters. It's not like he's terrorizing a mall here. We're in his backyard, and he's probably thinking "Get out of my yard!" as he's circling our camp.

But back to the vitamins! Along with my morning slop, I had an innocuous little tablet of Nutrilite, which smells a lot better than Centrum - why do most vitamins smell like ass, I don't know.

And about an hour later I was tweakin! It felt like the first time I was wired on gaurana, thanks be to Josta, circa 1998:



Remember this drink? You can't get it any more, but I loved it. The taste of cola never really appealed, I only drink Coke for its sugar and caffeine. I opt for Mt. Dew when I'm drinking for flavor. Josta had this great fruity flavor without being too sweet, and the gaurana was a real kick in the ass.

I get really talkative on caffeine, but I get really goofy on gaurana. Hmn, maybe instead of "tweak" I should say "goofin on gaurana".

I had another Nutrilite this morning, can you tell? Should it really be effecting me a good 12 hours later? Is arrhythmia ok?

So have I gone mad, is it me - or is it the vitamins? Is it a secret incredient, or just a new mix of the same old nutrients? Maybe vitamins are like shampoo - you know how the first few times you use a new shampoo, you're like "Damn, this stuff is amazing! What was I thinking using that crappy old stuff, my hair looks so good now that I want to jump me."

You look in the mirror and you say "Aw yeah, I'm one sexy mama!" And then a few shampoos later, you realize that the amazing lift and body the new shampoo gave you was a sudsy one night stand, and it stops calling and you never see it again.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Lies! Unfortunate Lies!!

Days Walking - 89

Today is all about daydreaming, none of this happened...

I'm in the tent, worrying a particularly tasty sliver of flesh teasingly tendrilling its way from my left pinky fingernail. Nip ye not too closely, or yelp you will... (it's an old adage I just made up).

I'm in the tent, nibbling my nails, thinking it's high time I outgrew this uncouth habit, when Adrian peeks in the tent flap.

He doesn't enter, but he kneels on the edge. His knees are muddy, he hasn't shaven in months, and despite his rugged mountain man exterior and strong hands that could break most mortal women in twain, he looks vulnerable. His eyes are sad, penitent.

"Litany," He says my name softly, and I can feel the remorse in his voice.

I remove my middle finger from my mouth, and wipe it dry - a coy and feminine gesture - on my shirt, spitting a little piece of fingernail to the right as a forgotten aside. It hits the sloping tent wall and joins the pile of other nails. Sexy thing is, they's mostly toenails, all bearing unsubtle signs of frantic gnawing.

"Ugh huh?" I purr sweetly, considering my next nail and evaluating it for parole. NO! ANOTHER SIX MONTHS! Gnaw gnaw gnaw.

Adrian is swept up in the moment, and moves closer. He raises a hand and reaches out for me, desperate for my touch.

His musky man-hands graze my sensuous elbow - hot and dry, as he likes it - because it's all about friction now isn't it.

"I was wrong to turn you away." He moans softly as we touch. "I'm desperately in love with you. I want to have your babies. Lots of babies. And I'll carry them myself, like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Junior."

"Wuh?" I mumble, using my eye-teeth to worry a thumbnail.

He grabs me, pulls me to him in a crushing embrace of long-suppressed need. "Take me!" He growls, and he kisses me, his tongue slipping, tripping, making quick darting forays into my surprised and delighted rose petaled lips. Our tongues dance a mirror dance of existential animism, wild as Wilde, and twice as pithy.

He stops abruptly and pulls back, a pained look on his glowing face.

Did he pop early? Premature ejaculation? Was I so hot that his untamed libido exploded in his shorts?

"Ugh!" He grunts, pulling a toe-nail out of his mouth.

I nod, "Yeah she was an escapee."

He flings the errant nail onto the pile, and then flings me back onto my sleeping bag. And then before I can take a breath, he's on me like blight on mice.

...Hey, a girl can dream.

Litany Webb, signing off.

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A Cameo By Olympian Brooke Bennett

Days Walking - 88

Email informer Conrad explained to me about the Spruce Bark Beetle calamity in Ack, and it's pretty scary to think that even small fluctuations in temperature can cause whole forests to be wiped out.

Conrad told me that a few rare species of spruce are thought to be more resistant to the beetle, and that might be the reason for the stolen tree escapade yesterday. Interesting stuff, thanks Conrad! It's always nice to get perspective for the weird stuff that's going on.

What if the dude who stole the tree was like a helpful but misunderstood scientist who is trying to save the spruce trees, but they 'Just Don't Understand Him At The University', ala Dr. Frankenstein. I feel you, tree-stealing scientist dude. Them University Types don't grasp my gleanings or connect with my ken neither. Ah caint figgir ouut why.

What litter items have we found, Janine wonders? People being people, we find the same sort of stuff you'd find at the side of any road. I had to ask Church for the listing, since she is the psycho who is actually jotting down a note for each found item. Just teasing, she's my kind of crazy.

Litter Found on Dalton Highway Between Deadhorse and Day 88:
A total of 4 empty plastic water bottles, a disposable baby diaper - used, a $1 bill, a 7-11 Police Only Paper Coffee Cup, one pair women's panties - dark blue, a utility bill for $87.93 worth of Natural Gas for Mr. G Meyers of Sitka, Ack - surprisingly legible, a half-full box of Wheaties - Brooke Bennett on front, a pineapple flavored car freshener, one audio cassette - Foreigner's 'Agent Provocateur' - crushed, a cat's litter box - nearly chewed in half - 'CSI Church' says bunnies did it, one milk crate - pristine, and last but not least - one pair of Bose headphones, crushed and mangled.

We've also found numerous items that are too big for us to try to carry - lots of rubber tread from truck tires, a truck axle, lengths of exhaust pipe, you get the idea.

Holy Caribou, there are some big animals up in here. There were six or eight of them, just wandering around, nibbling grass, as if they owned the place. They were a good ways off in the distance, whew - I have no desire to be gored, and my camera has a sh*tty zoom, it gets so grainy. Note to self, get a better camera.



We were hoping to see some baby caribou, but didn't spot any. Might be a bit too early in season yet. But I think meeting the caribou during a more aggressive protect-the-young phase would not be good, so I'm ok with waiting.

It was really cool to finally see some larger animals. We stopped and just watched them for a good fifteen minutes. We've been seeing a few squirrels, a few birds, etc. (And of course the one-time appearance of Mr. Toothy) But these are big freakin antlered behemoths, and they amble around in a cute, girthy relaxed manner. Like cows with an agenda.

Litany Webb, signing off

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He's Still Father Caeled From The Block

Days Walking - 87

Not long after our mid-day break, we were heading back to follow the road, and this red jalopy of an oversized pickup truck goes zooming by, way too fast, and he's got a small tree (as trees go) in the bed of his truck. Like twice the size of your average Christmas tree, its ass bound in burlap. Now, this tree is not properly secured, and it's flopping around losing branches.

This is odd for several reasons, but mostly because you just don't drive crummy vehicles on this road. This road kills and eats vehicles for brunch.

Being self-appointed road wardens, we grab the fallen branches and throw them off the road. I can just imagine an eighteen wheeler hitting them, gooey with happy new sap, skidding off the road and killing three or four of us. No thanks.

Oh - We've also been cleaning up what litter we find, have I mentioned that? We pack the small items of discarded stuff we find with our own lugged refuse, and rotate who carries it. Yes, we are geeky, environmental hikers. Some stuff we find is too big to worry about, but we try to do our part.

('Leave No Trace' is so utterly opposed to the typical capitalist consumer, American-Dream World-Domination worldview that perhaps it should become a philosophy/religion ala Scientology. Like 'An it Harm None, Do What Ye Will' but without the taint of PopWicca. As a philosophy, I like the idea of "Have fun, and clean up your mess." a lot better than fire, brimstone, and original sin.)

The most priceless item of litter was this paper coffee cup from 7-11, with a 'Police Use Only' imprint on it. First of all, I didn't know that cops got their own special cups - Do they get free coffee? Secondly, where the hell is there a 7-11 around here? Thirdly, who litters with a cop cup, I mean dayum.

So a few short minutes after the red jalopy truck, a National Park Service truck comes by and beckons us: "Have you seen a vehicle recently carrying a stolen tree?" While enjoying an internal grin-and-chuckle at the situation, we politely described the vehicle for the officers. I think they'll catch the thief, it's not like there are a lot of side-streets he can sneak away on.

(At least they didn't seem concerned about our presence, whew!)

It seems that some rare varieties of spruce trees are in danger of theft - I've heard of such things in Los Angeles, where people import crazy expensive trees from far-flung lands, only to have them ripped out of their yard in the night. They've begun hiding a LoJack like device in their expensive trees to help track them to the evil tree thief lair, no I'm not joking.

We took a reading of 51° today. We've started seeing some black flies but haven't noticed any mosquito's yet. It gets down to the 20's at night, so hopefully the bugs are dying off at night, and the ones we see by day are newly spawned. I'm not looking forward to dealing with the insect problem.

We keep a nightly watch now, since the sighting of Mr. Toothy a few days ago. I'd been lobbying for a night-time watch since we started the hike, but you know how some people are - until there's a problem, an ounce of prevention seems like too much.

Caeled is my usual Watch partner. We're tenting together now, and I'm happy about that. I've given up on the idea of talking to Adrian about the awkward kiss thing. What's the use of explaining why he's wrong and why I'm right, if he doesn't want to listen.

Adrian and I are talking, just not talking about anything important. When we turn to find the other person right there - which happens pretty damned often, he launches into some random schpiel. As if he's thinking ahead - "Ok, now if I have to talk to Litany, what will I say? How about if I joke about that Seinfeld episode I saw once? Yeah that'll be great."

Caeled's suddenly in love with a certain phrase, and he'll say it at every opportunity. Whether it's appropriate or not. "Hey Caeled, have you seen the water filter?" works, but "What kind of slop do you want for dinner?" does not. He's like a broken, enthusiastic Magic 8 Ball.

He doesn't seem to mind, though. Caeled's a funny guy, and I'm glad he's with us. He's a deep thinker with an intuitive perception and a skewed sense of humor. He'd make a good priest.

"Father Caeled, what you think about the afterlife?
Will our loved ones be waiting for us on the Other Side?"

"Fo Shizzle, Mah Bizzle!"

Good to know.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Intimate Attentions from Big Bertha

Days Walking - 86

Shows how good my research is, I thought this didn't happen till the summer. Gabe and Adrian were like "Duh!" when I mentioned it. Maybe I'm having memory issues. It's malnutrition, I tells ya!

(That's why a lot of the homeless people you might encounter seem loony - eating random scraps, they begin to have all sorts of mental issues due to malnutrition.)

We're gonna be passing out of the arctic circle soon, so this won't be a factor for us. Oh Good Lady Sharon of Barrow - this will be your first season with three months of eternal sunshine? You'll have to tell us what it's like.

The sun isn't setting for us until about 11:30 at night, which I have to tell you is bizarre. You wanna flick your watch and say "Is this thing broken? Is this AM? No? PM? Ok..." The confusion is worth it though - sleeping a good eight hours, and still having plenty of light for a productive hike is a beautiful, glorious gift.

If you guys have not already, I highly recommend checking out Sharon's Blog. I'm just walking through Ack - she's living it.

Speaking of being homeless, the first thing I would do if I were homeless, I mean like the first day - would be to walk into a store that sold high-priced items (like computers or diamond rings) and very blatantly try to steal something that runs at least a thousand dollars.

Then I'd be arrested, yay. And I'd have a cot to sleep on, food to eat, regular beatings, unwanted intimate attentions from Big Bertha, daily showers, books to read, and so on. When you get out of jail, they help hook you up with a place to live and a job! Hells Yeah baby. No way I'm sleeping an alley, eating food out of trash cans. Prison is the way to go. Plus, the 'Fall and Rise of Litany' memoir would top the NY Times bestseller charts.

CyVault - Greets! I checked my email, and it turns out yours was in the spam folder for some reason. Maybe my spam settings are too severe. When I saw your name, my mind pronounced it Sivault, like a Bizarro Tybalt. I don't know why.

Glad to hear you're enjoying the blog Cy. As I ramble into Marina's voicemail, we are located at 66°56'47N and 150°22'58W. Just how real-time is this spy satellite thing of yours? Can you see me waving? How many fingers am I holding up? Do I have to beware when I squat? You know, when I'm hiding behind a tree peeing, do I have to worry about my pale white ass showing up on radar?

The Great Wall of China, and Litany's Cracker Ass, two things you can see from space.

Hopefully I've heard the last of The Husband situation. I replied to the woman's email and politely tried to explain I've done nothing to encourage her man. I detailed the differences between a blog post and an email. No answer yet, and hopefully there won't be. And I had the impression that the guy just wanted to meet and greet, not join up with the group. I could be wrong... I hope I'm not wrong, that would be scary. "I've left my whole world for you, Litany!"

What do you say to that? How do you convince such a person to return to their responsibilities? I hope I never have to find out. It's my desperate hope that the whole thing is a misunderstanding.

As for Gabe, Kwame, and etc fending off female fans, Hah! They'd be too busy enjoying the attention to do any fending. They dream of waking up in a snuggly spoon-pile of nude gal groupies.

I of course, have no such aspirations, despite my previous, misguided, wicked desires for an all-stud harem. I was very wrong, and will now pursue a virtuous life. The first convent I come across that isn't drafty, I'm signing up. Really... (Wide-eyed innocent blinking, cutely)

I've received very few angry emails, like four or five I think. But they weren't at all funny, so I didn't bother mentioning most of them. A good 99% of the feedback has been very encouraging, which has been great. I Love My Public! All 5 of you! Sniffle!

Litany Webb, signing off

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A Rush of Mutant Endorphins

Days Walking - 85

On the road again! Goodbye Coldfoot, I will miss your deep-fried goods, your crass truckers, and your sexy uniformed National Park Service Rangers. What is it about a uniform, (Yum!) I don't know. I've got some fertile valleys you could range in, big boy...

Sharon and Kato, thanks for the Arby's recommendations. I've never had the goodly onion product you described, I'll have to check it out. Is it like a 'Bloomin Onion' at Outback, but smaller? Oh and Kato, you don't need to come to Ack for skanky wenches, they're everywhere.

Robin - You're right of course. If Church got held back for some reason, we could not continue without a person with medical expertise. And even if we wanted to replace her or any of the other members (except me, let's face it - with no real skills, I'm the easiest one to lose) it could take many months to find the proper person (how well I know).

Wow, this email I received is too good not to share. I got an email from an angry woman who wants me to stop writing to her husband.

Here's an excerpt:
"...this kind of flirting and messing around is not acceptible and has got to stop immediately. He's talking about buying a ticket to Alaska to meet you in Anchorage and we don't have the money to waste on something like that we have two kids to worry about for gods sake and he's suppose to have good priorities."

It goes on for a few more paragraphs, but that's the best bit. Except for the part where she recommends that I need to find some morals and learn to behave like a 'Good Christian Woman', whatever that means.

Um, I have never written to her husband. I email like five people, tops. Of course, Angry Wife never tells me Poor Husband's name, so I guess it's possible - if her husband is Kato. Do you have an angry wife I should know about Kato?

Unless she means comments posted to blogs...but I've made darned few comments lately. Also, we're not going anywhere near Anchorage, so husband would be mighty disappointed if he was waiting around to meet up with the group. We'll be heading SE from Fairbanks, towards British Columbia.

I drew the short straw this morning and am the first lucky mofo to bear the weight of the generator. It's thrown my typical weight ratio out of wack and I'm walking differently, which makes me sore in different places. Places I didn't even know I had places. You'd think I'd be entirely toughened up by now, but I'm still discovering new muscles to tear.

Maybe I'll discover a new muscle - something no one else has because I'm a mutant of the muscular kind. It will activate, triggering a rush of mutant endorphins into my system, triggering still more changes... and I will become Mighty!

Ah, odds are it would be some silly power. Like an innate sense for when microwave popcorn is about to burn. Wheee!

Litany Webb, signing off

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Slapping My Face With Its Burningness

Days Walking - 84

Am I the only one that worries about this? - - Often when I begin to blog on a topic, I have to pause and think back, and try to make sure I haven’t already talked about it. Cause you know, the things I’m likely to say are things I’m likely to say. It’s like ‘hmn, this feels familiar…’ as I’m beginning a thought.

I’d like to say thanks to Sam Clark, a farmer from Idaho who helped me last night with the satellite system battery. Yay! Hello full power! It seems that there’s a trick to it - the secondary battery is inside the base of the system itself. You have to pop the cover off, and flip the battery around, and re-insert it. I’d read the instructions, like four months ago, and then promptly forgot how it worked. Yes obviously I should have kept better track of the instruction manual.

Kwame sold the sled. Since fresh powder is on the decline, and mud and muck doesn’t really sled too well, he decided that selling it while we were in Coldfoot would be a good idea. He’d bought it used in Barrow for about $500, and he got $250 for it. Yay, more rations for all! Not to mention bacon cheeseburgers. And onion rings.

The bummer is that the crank generator used to travel by sled, and it’s kinda heavy. So now we’ll have to lug it, like on our backs. Like I don’t already feel like an overburdened camel. Don’t get me wrong, I love the generator. Just not looking forward to schlepping it to Chile.

Am I the only person who thinks that onion rings should be cut into small pieces, and then breaded and fried? I hate it when I bite into an onion ring and the whole damn onion comes out in one giant floppy piece, and it’s scalding hot and slapping my face with its burningness. Cut em up, good Cookery Folk, cut em up!

I resisted the urge to stock up on caffeine pills while we’re here. Aside from the Coca Cola’s I had with lunch and dinner, I have not had any. I just don’t want to go through the withdrawal again. I get really pissy with everyone and I don’t like it.

Heather - Hey girl, I missed ya! I've been reading both your blogs every day, and I know you've been busy! You wondered if the trip has been intense… Sometimes it has been. I’d call it 'Days on End of Boredom, Punctuated by Sharp Stabs of Fear for Our Very Lives'.

Gabe very nearly got himself arrested last night. He was fooling around with a girl he’d met at the gift shop, they were getting it on in the backseat of her Jeep - only to second base, according to Gabe - and it's a good thing too.

(Where is my little bit of action? My sexy man with a Jeep? Yeah I know… It’s never hard to find some guy willing to jump a willing woman, but I’m not that desperate).

In the midst of the Gabe’s steamy scene, there comes the cliché tap-tap on the window with the law enforcement flashlight. It turns out, Little Miss wasn’t eighteen. So she’s freaking out, while trying to seem calm. Gabe pretended she was his wife, and she played along.

Since they weren’t driving, and just getting naughty in the parking lot, they were able to finagle their way out of showing ID. Good grief, of all the stupid things to get in trouble for. Or, almost get in trouble for. In Gabe’s defense, I saw this girl and she looked at least 21. That’s why you can’t trust how old a person appears to be.

We have not, as a group, discussed what we’ll do if someone gets their fool ass arrested. If it’s just a couple of days, we’d wait. But more than that, what - just leave them? We should come to a consensus on this before it actually happens. Then the arrested arse (hey it could be me) will know what to expect.

Since most of the land we spend time on is Federal, offenses that might otherwise be minor suddenly become A Big Deal and Uncle Sam Himself greets you at the prison door. Say hello to a big ole angry star spangled boot to the backside.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Giggle Wiggle Boob Shaker

Days Walking - 83

Thank goodness for your questions, I'm spared from random blatherings about nothing. And you're spared from reading them! Let's share a collective sigh of relief, shall we? More queries please yes thank you.

Robin wonders who would visit Coldfoot...
Truckers, and also lots of truckers. I was kinda expecting truck-stop hookers, but I have not seen any. Maybe I just don't recognize them in cold-weather garb - I'm used to the scantily clad California flavor.

Here are a few people we've met, some cool peeps!

Ernie Weaver, meteoroligist.
On his way to Science Station AE432-9Z (Sorry Ernie, I don't recall the actual station number... to gather data and spend three months doing system maintenance. He's based in Anchorage and has three kids. I can't imagine leaving my kids for three months. Hard enough to leave my kitty.

David Janney, a blacksmith-turned artist.
Smithy is an art itself, in my humble opinion. David is scrounging around old railroad lines - as in 100 or more years old - looking for antique rail spikes that he then smiths into angels. It seems people will pay big money in their collection of all things angel-related, and lots of people collect them.

Suzanna Hill, of San Diego, California. Like, Gosh!
She is a human Barbie doll and is actually pretty intelligent under her superficial persona. She's savvy, more than sharp, if that makes sense. She preens she blinks she flirts cute as a button on a hot pink garter belt. She's a giggle-wriggle-boob-shaker oh tee hee you're so funny. She's up here to land herself a man who will be gone for months at a time, leaving her alone to work on her world domination fashion-designing empire.

Have I mentioned that Suzanna is incapable of cursing? Her favorite nigh-cuss is 'Forget that!'

Suzanna's a would-be sex-pot snow bunny who has no business this far from San Diego. She's traveling with a mountain of gear, and it's pretty obvious that she walked into an REI, slapped Daddy's American Express Card on the counter, and said 'Two of everything, please.' When we met her, she was struggling with the packaging for her Swiss Army Knife, trying to get it open. She'd been messing with it for a good ten minutes, worrying it with her butter knife to no avail. I hope for her sake she meets a good man soon.

Ancethcal - Welcome, welcome. Have not seen any help-wanted signs, nope. And really, I wouldn't recommend living here even if there were. It really just a resupply station, a layover, not a stop. It would be like living at an airport. And despite the great time Viktor Navorski had living in his airport, I don't recommend it.

Sharon - Yeah the mud is already becoming a pain in the ass. It still gets below freezing at night, so that helps reduce the brown slop factor. But I'm not looking forward to slogging through this stuff for months on end. Sorry to hear about your computer problems!

I'd like to recommend the Coldfoot Café as serving the worlds best bacon cheeseburger and fries. Heaven!

Litany Webb, signing off

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Halfway to Fairbanks!

Days Walking - 82

A little more than halfway, actually factually. We've reached Mile 175 of the Dalton Highway, and arrived in Coldfoot! It's really just a group of buildings in the middle of nowhere. It's nice to see something of civilization, and the hustle and bustle therin.



We were hoping to secure lodging for one person/one bed, and then sneak in and let everyone shower, one by one. But no. The Inn's rooms are $165 a night, and despite our charismatic charms, there was no haggling that would improve the price.

So we hit the RV Park, getting our camp shower on.
Better than nothing.

Laundry!! Almost more succulent than being able to bathe is having clean clothes. These three guys ahead of us hogged the machines for like four hours. Hey, what can you do, first come first served.

Coldfoot is a welcome respite from hiking, let me tell you! Only thirteen people live here, and the rest are folks passing through. The name Coldfoot comes from the gold prospecting days of the early 1900's. It seems a lot of would-be can-do types reached this point and turned around and went home. Can't say I blame them.

Today's Coldfoot has an inn, a restaurant, a gift shop, a gas station, an automotive repair shop, a truckstop, and an airstrip. Oh and there's a visitor's center, but it's closed for a few more weeks. You know, until Spring gets here.



The sign reads:
"Welcome to Coldfoot Camp. You are 55 miles north of the Arctic Circle on the east bank of the Middle Fork Koyukuk River at the mouth of Slate Creek, which drains to the east. This is the site of the former gold mining community of Coldfoot, which was built here at the turn of the century. According to historical records, the original town of Coldfoot got its name in the Summer of 1900 when one of the waves of green stampeders got as far up the Koyukuk at this point, then got cold feet, turned around and ran."

I'm going to take another shower now. Wheeee!

Litany Webb, signing off

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